


you could stay

by imitation_red



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, Multi, Threesome, gentle!Derek, triangle to threesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-08
Updated: 2014-01-08
Packaged: 2018-01-07 23:44:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1125795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imitation_red/pseuds/imitation_red
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Isaac watches rivulets of water trail down Derek’s abs and the sharp dip of his hipbone before disappearing behind the low-riding towel, watches droplets map the line of Derek’s neck and shoulder blades and spine, and thinks,</p>
<p>
  <i>How come I‘m not getting any of that?</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	you could stay

Despite sharing Scott as their lover, Derek and Isaac aren’t jealous of each other. Derek knows Isaac needs Scott as his anchor, and Isaac knows Derek needs Scott as his alpha. Derek’s been without a true pack too long to begrudge Isaac. Isaac’s been without family too long to turn his back on Derek.

(It helps that they both know Scott loves them with everything he has, tells them every morning and night, doesn’t end a phone call without saying it, shows it in the way he touches them, the way his eyes track their movements around a room.)

They’re friends, have become comfortable with each other in a way neither would’ve guessed could happen. Because Derek’s different when he’s not afraid, when he doesn’t have the burden of being alpha on his shoulders, when he doesn’t fear for his life and the life of his pack. He doesn’t have to resort to violence and intimidation against his own packmates, because he knows that Scott can lead them, will keep them safe.

And Isaac understands because he’s also lashed out and been his most vicious when he was afraid – so actually he forgave Derek a long time ago. He knows what the scars of abuse and loss look like, even when they’re written on someone else’s skin rather than his own.

Derek’s full of guilt and Isaac can see that too, in the way he treats him. Usually they take turns with Scott (Scott’s good at making sure they both get what they need, has more than enough affection and love for both of them) but whenever the three of them are together Derek is the one that bows out. Isaac doesn’t object, because he knows it’s Derek’s guilt speaking and he doesn’t know how to ease that, or if it’s even his place to try and fix it.

It’s the most superficial thing that gets Isaac thinking differently.

They’re hanging around in Derek’s loft watching him make dinner (they’ve offered to help, but Derek is one of those control freaks who takes cooking way too seriously) when Derek spills vinegar on himself, makes a face because the smell is so strong and goes to take a quick shower. When he returns it’s with a towel wrapped around his waist, hair and torso wet, because Derek is legitimately so serious about cooking he couldn’t take the time to get dressed before needing to check on the food.

Isaac watches rivulets of water trail down Derek’s abs and the sharp dip of his hipbone before disappearing behind the low-riding towel, watches droplets map the line of Derek’s neck and shoulder blades and spine, and thinks,

How come I‘m not getting any of that?

(He will never, ever in a million years, admit that this is the moment when he decided to try and get them to threesome status, because he gets enough shit as it is for being the one that wants to bone everything. He tells Scott and Derek it was when he was looking soulfully into Derek’s eyes or some such shit, instead.)

Because it only makes sense. The person Isaac trusts most in the world, besides Scott, is Derek. They’re already comfortable with each other. They’re not jealous of each others’ relationship with Scott. Why split time in halves when they could share each other?

The next time he and Derek are alone together (playing video games in sweatpants and waiting for Scott to get back from work) he says, casually, “You could just stay, you know.”

Derek stares at Isaac, his character almost dying on screen, before turning back to the game. “I’m not – it’s your turn.”

“I know,” Isaac says. “I’m just saying. You could stay. I wouldn’t mind.”

Derek’s game character dies a painful death.

Derek doesn’t seem to notice. “I -”

Whatever he’s going to say gets cut off when Scott bangs open the front door, calling to them cheerfully. Derek stays for dinner, kisses Scott and hugs Isaac before leaving. Isaac watches him go out the door regretfully.

He doesn’t give up. The next time the three of them are together (early Saturday morning, watching cartoons) Isaac starts to kiss Scott, and when Derek makes to leave he grabs Derek’s hand and keeps him there.

Derek stays, but he’s rigid and Isaac can feel the waves of tension radiating from him. That’s not what he wants. So he gives Derek’s hand one last squeeze and lets go. Derek escapes into the kitchen and he does his best not to sigh in frustration against Scott’ mouth.

When they part Scott gives him a searching look. “Are you sure?” he asks quietly.

“Yes,” Isaac says, because he is, now, he wants Derek, wants Derek to touch him and be touched, wants the three of them to do this together. 

“Alright,” Scott says. “Just – be careful with him, please? He’s a lot more fragile than he lets on.”

Isaac thinks about the first time he saw Derek smile genuinely, something soft and rare and fleeting. How those smiles come more often now but are still so short-lived. “I will,” he promises.

—-

Two more failed attempts later, a terrible thought occurs to Isaac. He tracks Derek down to the garage where he’s working on restoring an old classic car (something else Derek takes too seriously, but somewhere along the line Isaac started to see these things as endearing rather than ridiculous) and corners him.

“Is it me?” Isaac blurts out.

Derek looks up from wiping the grease off his hands. “Is what you?”

“Am I – the reason you don’t stay? Do you not -” Isaac gestures vaguely at himself. “Am I unattractive? To you, I mean.”

“Jesus, Isaac,” Derek mutters, embarrassed. “No, that’s not why.”

“So you do?” Isaac presses.

“Do what?”

Isaac gives Derek a look.

“Yes, I find you attractive,” Derek says, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else, but he still finishes, softly, “Isaac, you’re beautiful, okay? It doesn’t have anything to do with…” he trails off, avoiding Isaac’s gaze, focusing intently on getting the grease off his hands.

He’s tense, like he’s bracing himself for Isaac to demand why, then, but Isaac thinks maybe he already knows. Instead, he asks, “Do you want me to help? I could pass the tools to you or something.”

Derek looks up, surprised. After a moment his mouth quirks. “Can you even tell the difference between any of them?”

“Yes,” Isaac says, with dignity. “That’s a monkey wrench and that’s a… monkey wrench, probably, and that’s another monkey wrench,” he says, pointing to three obviously different tools in turn.

Derek snorts and rolls his eyes, but he lets Isaac “help” anyway, and doesn’t even get mad when Isaac hands him the wrong ratchet wrench three times in a row. 

—-

Isaac studies in Derek’s loft often, because his roommates are noisy and the library is depressing (and stuffed to the brim with stressed freshmen) and most importantly, Derek always feeds him if he looks pathetic enough.

Five hours into his session Derek pulls away his textbooks and plants a cup of hot cocoa in front of him. “Take a break,” he says firmly.

When Isaac looks up at him, he adds, “You’ve been staring at the same paragraph pulling out strands of hair for the last fifteen minutes. Take a break.”

“You know if you’d told me that being a werewolf would mean being immune to the effects of caffeine, I would have turned you down,” Isaac complains as he sips the cocoa, rubbing his eyes and trying to shake off the sleepiness.

Derek visibly tenses, eyes flicking down, before moving to the kitchen counter and leaning against it.

“Um, I’m kidding,” Isaac says hesitantly, because Derek’s jaw is clenched with what looks a lot like self-recrimination and that’s not at all what he intended.

“I didn’t tell you everything,” Derek says, suddenly. “I never gave you a real choice.”

“Derek,” Isaac starts, but Derek keeps talking over him, like he’s needed to say this for a while, now, like the words have festered and chafed in his mouth for weeks.

“I didn’t tell you about the alpha pack or how bad it would be – I didn’t tell you about my psychotic murdering uncle or the fact that my family was killed for being werewolves – I told you I could give you a better life and I failed. I needed you in my pack and I – I took advantage of your desperation. And in the end I didn’t even treat you better than your father did.”

Silence falls, and Isaac tries to figure out what to say, almost says “that’s not true” (but it mostly is) or “it’s okay” (but Derek wouldn’t believe him) or “the past is in the past” (but he knows Derek doesn’t think like that, can’t let go of some things, is harder on himself than anyone).

He puts down his mug with a soft clink. Slips out from under the table and approaches Derek so he’s leaning against the counter side-by-side with him.

“You know I forgave you a long time ago, right?” Isaac says softly.

Derek makes a muted noise, like a gasp swallowed back, and looks at Isaac with a gutted expression that makes Isaac ache. His hands clench into fists and then press flat against the counter, but Isaac can see the tremor in his shoulders. He waits, knows that Derek heard the truth in the steady beat of his heart. 

“I don’t deserve it,” Derek says at last.

“Well, I don’t think that’s for you to decide,” Isaac replies. “And, for the record, I think you do.”

Derek doesn’t speak, and Isaac wishes Scott were here, because Scott knows how to be gentle, would know what to say.

He rests his chin on Derek’s shoulder. Derek’s head turns, eyes flicking down to Isaac’s lips briefly. Isaac thinks about leaning in, about how Derek’s stubble would feel against his mouth, and swallows the impulse down.

Instead he says, “Hey, make me more cocoa. Without the marshmallows, they’re gross.” 

“Heathen,” Derek mutters, the smallest of smiles tugging on the corner of his mouth. He makes Isaac a second mug, without marshmallows and topped over with whipped cream, just the way Isaac likes it. 

—-

The best time to get Derek to agree with anything is when he has a lapful of cat.

Specifically, a lapful of Attila, the one kitten out of an orphaned litter that was completely unafraid of Derek, unafraid of anything, really, thus the name. She’s also a little terror to anyone except Derek, whom she followed around loyally the minute Scott brought her litter to Derek’s loft, explaining that they were too young to be left alone at the clinic.

Scott jokes that Attila is more Derek’s alpha than he is, because if he asked Derek to feed him or take him outside in the middle of the night, Derek would kick him off the bed.

Anytime Attila curls up in Derek’s lap he will not move until she leaves of her own volition. Isaac has seen Derek suffer with a full bladder for nearly an hour before she finally deigned to climb down and chase dust motes.

She’s curled in his lap now, grooming fitfully, and if Derek so much as shifts from his position on the floor and unbalances her, she stops to fix him with a look. (Isaac thinks they should have named her McGonagall instead.)

Emboldened by Attila’s presence, Isaac sits on the couch behind Derek and starts playing with his hair, dragging fingernails against his scalp.

“I’m not a cat,” Derek says, unmoving, for fear of Attila’s wrath.

“No, but you take orders from one,” Scott cheeks, glancing up from his homework with a grin.

Derek turns his head to give Scott the evil eye, but doesn’t move from the neck down, and more tellingly doesn’t deny it. “Isaac. Stop petting me.”

In response, Isaac slowly drags the tips of his fingers from Derek’s hairline to the nape of his neck. A soft hum of pleasure slips from Derek and he grins. “Still want me to stop?”

“Don’t care. Do whatever,” Derek replies, tone indifferent, even as he leans back against Isaac’s touch.

Scott turns his laugh into a cough, which Derek ignores with all the haughtiness of an offended cat.

Isaac strokes his thumb over one soft lock of hair, a little curious and absorbed in it. He’s never touched Derek this intimately before. He tugs experimentally, watching Derek’s eyelashes flutter. He tries pressing the pads of his fingers into Derek’s neck until his shoulders loosen, massages his scalp and scrapes his nails through his hair, seeing how many times he can get Derek to sigh or hum quietly.

He’s aware of Scott watching them, at first with fondness, then with growing heat.

Eventually Derek melts under his ministrations. His eyes slide shut, head tipping back into Isaac’s lap, revealing the long column of his throat. The sight makes his breath catch. He wants to lick and bite at the delicate skin, see how long the bruises stay. Wants Scott to go over those same marks with his own teeth so they’ll last for weeks, their claim on Derek laid bare for everyone to see. 

He leans over Derek’s shoulder, one hand still tangled in his hair. Derek’s eyes open slowly as he tilts his head towards Isaac, gaze flitting from Isaac’s eyes to his mouth and back, tongue swiping over his lower lip. Isaac doesn’t move; this close he can feel Derek’s breath on his face, make out four different colors in his irises.

“The cat’s still in my lap,” Derek says, voice low and scratchy from disuse.

“I’m kind of counting on it,” Isaac breathes, heart beginning to speed, and he leans in.

Derek’s lips are soft, softer than he imagined, although maybe it’s the contrast of the gentle scratch of Derek’s beard that makes it seem that way. Derek kisses slow and tentative, and he feels so different from Scott that it throws Isaac, just a little (and he guesses it throws Derek too.) 

He bites lightly on Derek’s lower lip and Derek groans, one hand coming up to fist in Isaac’s hair. Attila lets out a displeased meow and hops off Derek’s lap. He doesn’t seem to notice, twisting to get a better angle, teeth sinking into Isaac’s lip and tugging until it’s Isaac’s turn to moan.

“Scott, get your ass over here,” Derek pants.

Isaac’s never seen Scott move so fast. He plants himself on Derek’s lap and tugs Isaac to the floor with them and beams at them. And even when they each take a turn trying to kiss that grin off his face he just laughs into their mouths until they give up.

(and Derek rolls his eyes but he’s smiling, the longest lasting smile Isaac’s seen yet.)


End file.
